


Are You Game, Mr. Rogers?

by ZombieliciousXIII



Series: A Patchwork Family [1]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crack Treated Seriously, Dancing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fear of Flying, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Never prank Clint Barton or Bucky Barnes, Pining, Slow Burn, Stony - Freeform, Truth or Dare, You will regret it, mentions of past trauma, steve has a crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22515481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieliciousXIII/pseuds/ZombieliciousXIII
Summary: "And…and- wait, wait! Hold the fuck up!” Stark suddenly perks, the sudden outburst from his ramblings making Steve sit up immediately going on alert, eyes darting around trying to find a threat.“Tony what-““This is our first night alone together!” Steve would flush at the phrasing if he wasn’t still trying to put two-and-two together in regards to the genius is reasoning. “Our first night de mano en mano - well ‘de hombre a hombre’ if you really wanna nitpick - and we’re just sitting here eating Thai and sipping on low-rent beer! I have a reputation to maintain, Not-So-Wholesome-Rogers!”~~~~~OR: Steve and Tony have their first night alone in the Tower together and decide to get up to some Truth or Dare shenanigans, but they're just playing around, nothing to it...right?
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: A Patchwork Family [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620118
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
> I hope you enjoy this story, I've had it for a while but finally managed to finish it!  
> This story is the start of a loose AU - Cannon Divergence series I plan on starting, so you may notice things about the characters are a mach-up between the movies and the comics.  
> With that said, I hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New revisions/edits made! (May 5th, 2020)

It was one of those nights where it seemed like everything around you was turned down somehow. Nights where sounds weren't deafening, but a calming backdrop, like waves calmly lapping at the seashore. Nights where lights didn’t seem blinding, but instead calmly glittering like beautiful, warm starlight. Steve often wondered why these nights seemed so rare. Why they only came to fruition every blue moon, but then realized the missing ingredient to all his nights where everything otherwise seemed like too much; Tony Stark.

It was no secret, that Anthony Edward Stark was a being larger than life itself encased in a lithe, tanned body - perhaps one shorter than he’d ever admit to, but one Steve adored nonetheless. With a mind that perplexed even the smartest the galaxies had to offer, and a mouth that could give the Devil himself a run for his money - in more ways than one, Steve was sure. Tony Stark was the kind of person that made you stop in your tracks and take notice. At the very least, he’d stopped Steve in his. Stark’s presence alone was to be admired. He filled every crevice and crack just by _being_ there, his warm demeanour and melodic timber captivating all those around him. It seemed so effortless. Maybe that was why these nights alone with Tony were so different; because on nights like these, Tony’s attention was solely on Steve and the rest just...seemed like background noise in comparison.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, Rogers,” Tony announces as he reaches for his root beer, swirling the remaining contents of it with a hum. “I wonder who’s more wholesome, you or Fred? Nah, you don’t wear cardigans, Mr. Rogers 2.0 wins this round.”

Steve, for the life of him, had no idea what Tony was referencing. But the playful twinkle in Tony's eyes was enough to make him huff and grin fondly at the man anyway. It seemed, around Tony, Steve was never anything but some kind of ‘fond.' It made Steve wonder when the ice had seemingly begun to seep from his bones because some days, the cold was all he could feel. But not tonight. Not now.

Not with Tony.

“I mean…I _do_ like a nice cardigan-” Steve offers, and feels a little more confident when Tony sputters on his drink and laughs.

“Dear Lord, you were born _before_ Mr. Rogers. Of _course_ , you like cardigans! Do you have any? Ooooh, Pepper _will_ maim me for dragging Captain America through the shopping district at this time of night, eh but who cares? I think you’d _slay_ a cornflower blue; boy’s trip! And…and- _wait_ , hold up. Hold the fuck up!” The smaller man jerks upright, eyes wide. The abrupt outburst immediately sets Steve on high alert, eyes darting around trying to find a threat.

“Tony what-“

“This is our first night alone together!” Steve would flush at the phrasing if he wasn’t still trying to put two-and-two together in regards to the genius is reasoning. “Our first night at the Tower de mano en mano - well ‘de hombre a hombre’ if you really wanna nitpick. _Anyway_ , we’re just sitting here eating Thai and sipping on root beer! I have a reputation to maintain, I'll have you know, Not-So-Wholesome-Rogers.”

Steve’s cheeks almost ache with his want to smile. Tony just had a way of doing that to him, but still tries playing it cool - Nat would be proud, maybe. “So what does a night alone with Tony Stark entail?”

It was close to the line, _too_ close to something no longer platonic. Even Tony seemed to be caught off guard by the captain's words for a moment. However, Tony was always quick to regain his footing. He grins, wide and wicked, and somehow Steve found it too endearing to worry about the mischievous glint in the genius is rich-brown eyes. People said Steve was the tactician of their team, but he couldn’t hold a _candle_ to Tony’s skills of thinking on the fly.

“Usually an unforgettable night and an NDA or two,” the engineer chuckles softly, teasing. It sounded a little rough, and Steve felt a spark that insides aflame while Tony held his gaze. “Are you game, Rogers?”

Bucky would probably smack Steve upside the head once he heard about this, but what other choice was there? He could blame it on his competitive streak, or maybe the glint in Tony’s dark-honey eyes. But he knew, when it came down to it, agreeing to Tony's plans wasn’t something he’d ever regret.

“Let’s see what you got, Stark.”

* * *

“You’re kidding me.” Steve didn’t want to say he was _disappointed,_ but he defiantly didn’t expect this. “You know we had this back in the Depression too, right?”

“I thought you were 'game,' Rogers. Don’t chicken out now!” Steve rolls his eyes. Snatching the empty root beer bottle from his favourite Tin Can’s hands, he sets it in between where they sat cross-legged across from one another.

“Bucky made me eat a beetle once,” Steve said matter-of-factly, meeting Tony with a blank gaze. “I fear nothing.”

It took about a split second before Tony barked a laugh, “oh please, Rhodey dared me to wear the Frank N. Furter costume to our graduation ceremony. I did it, proudly. With heels. _I_ am _not_ one to be fucked with, Stevie.”

Steve didn’t get the costume reference, but he knew Tony was just as competitive, if not more so than himself. A worthy adversary, but Steve would never admit to that.

“Big talk for a little guy, Tones. Let's see if your bite’s as bad as your bark,” Steve goads before spinning the bottle. But despite his calm outward demeanour, every inch of his being was hoping for the bottle to land on Tony.

_Damn it._

“Dare.”

“Oh, shall I count the ways?” Tony teases in a sing-song voice, smiling at Steve like the adorable little shit he was. “Are you sure you want to go with a dare, Stevie? Maybe we start this off easy, give you enough time to back out-”

“Oh shut it, Tin Man," Tony smirks at the nickname. The banter was half the fun of these games, after all.

“Fine then,” Tony says with a grin that _finally_ gets through to Steve’s rational senses, _I_ may _have fucked up._ "I’m feelin’… _green_ , how about you?”

Steve wasn’t sure why he was suddenly nervous. The sparkle in Tony’s eyes wasn’t helping much but damn was it pretty to look at, even if Steve began to wonder what the hell he'd just agreed to.

“You sure you can do this, soldier?” Steve shivers as Tony whispers the words into his ear from behind, only _just_ managing not to jump out of his skin like a fool. _He’s trying to kill me._ Steve wasn’t even going to _begin_ on how hearing the word ‘soldier’ said like _that_ was making his insides flip, and flip is pretty impressive ways. Impressive enough that he made a mental note to ask Banner to check for permanent damage later.

“This all you got, Stark?” Steve croaks- _damn it._ Clearing his throat, Steve rolls his shoulders. He knows how it makes him look. Natasha _and_ Thor had made their thoughts on his physique rather blatant, multiple times. Steve knew he was a looker, thanks to the serum. At least, enough of a looker to catch the attention of most, _but of those who matter?_ He brushes the thought away. So what if he was showing off a little? Tony wasn’t exactly playing fair, either.

Steve stifles a grin when he hears Tony's sharp inhale, something deep and primal in him enjoying the fact he affects the man. Even if it _was_ only skin-deep. “Alright, no more dawdling soldier, time to drink up or shut u-…well goddamn.”

The Captain slams back the drink before he can think twice about it. It was the rule of thumb but in his war days. When swill was all you had, you learned to throw it back, and not think about exactly what you just drank. Don’t think, just swallow. However, whatever the _hell_ Tony concocted didn’t taste like the gasoline-flavoured whiskey that stung his throat back on the frontlines. Instead, Steve discovered what it would taste like if you crossed Fing Fang Foom’s spit with an Atlantean’s briefs. Steve had never moved faster in his life, even under live enemy fire, than he did right then. Darting over to the kitchen sink to yak out his guts. For a second Steve would _swear_ his skin twinged green, then orange, and then _pink_ but finally settled back in its usual Irish-pale complexion.

“Did I just…change colours?” Steve dared ask, looking over his shoulder at Tony who had seemed to stop laughing at some point and now looked…fidgety.

“No? No. No! No, you’re _totally_ fine. I’m sure...maybe? Yeah… _yeah_ , you’re fine don’t worry about it. But I texted Thor, just in case.” Maybe it's Tony's rambling, or whatever the hell Steve just barfed up that turned him into a human-glowstick. Or maybe it was the I-want-to-laugh-but-I-need-to-know-you’re-okay-first expression of muddled emotions on Tony's face. But whatever it was, it had Steve doubling over with laughter.

“Oh crap, please don’t tell me I _broke_ Captain America. Coulson _will_ kill me. Holy shit, Steve are you okay?” Steve could hear the tremble of amusement along with the tinge of anxiety in Tony’s coaxing voice, as though there were two parts of him at war with each other. The part that was worried he’d harmed Steve, and the other half that wanted to laugh away the situation with him.

So, Steve turned on the tap, rinsed out his mouth a couple of times, before turning around to face the genius while grinning as smugly as he can. Because despite having hacked up his guts not-five minutes into the game, he was having fun. And more importantly, he was having fun _with Tony._ He'd be damned if he let it end now.

“Like I said,” Steve puffs out his chest little in an over-the-top display of arrogance, but feels his neck flush a little when he notices Tony’s eyes wander down his chest. _They all do this, it doesn’t mean anything. Erskine’s work is amazing, that’s it._ “That all you got, Stark?”

That playful glint was back in Tony’s brilliant eyes before he'd even finished speaking. Steve felt helpless but to stare. “I respect it, Rogers. _But_ I’ve _never_ lost a game of Truth or Dare, and I don’t intend to start now.”

“Don’t let your ego get to you, Tony,” Steve teases playfully. Reaching for another root beer from the counter to rinse out his mouth further. “Just ask Bucky how stubborn I can be. Spoiler, _very_.”

“Oh please, I know _damn_ well how stubborn your All American Ass can be, Rogers,” Tony scoffs with a roll of his eyes. Though, his attempted exasperation is undercut by the grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “So it’s your turn. What does Captain America have up his sleeve?”

Steve felt like he had a _million_ ideas…and none at all, damn it. The problem with having so many options was picking the _right one_ and Tony was a hard nut to crack. People mistook Tony’s confidence in himself for shamelessness - and hell, for a time, so did Steve. But over time, Steve was unsettled to learn that Tony didn't _actually_ have a very good image of himself, which broke Steve’s heart. However, Tony Stark _knew_ who he was, even if that image of himself was torn apart and burnt to embers. There was no better analogy for the Phoenix than his best friend; the man who fell only to rise, and rise again. So knowing that Tony would do just about anything because he lived life with the mentality of _‘why not?’ -_ which was both amazing and terrifying to Steve - how could he catch him out?

“Sometime before the next century would be great, Stevie baby,” Tony hums, playfully jeering Steve just because he knew he could. “It’s not that hard, want me to dance dress up in Drag? Dance to Ms. Swift? Streak through Broadway? Hell, I’ll throw you a bone; you can include the suit in your dare if you choose dare. Within reason, of course.”

At the mention of Taylor Swift and the suit, Steve thinks of something Cassie had said at during Peter’s birthday party. It wasn’t the _craziest_ of ideas, he knew, but he _also_ knew the kids would get a kick out of it. Hell, the whole _team_ probably would. He knew he would, anyway.

“Alright Shell Head, put your money where your mouth is, huh?” Steve starts in, eyes darting to said mouth before barreling on. “I dare you, Tony Stark, to put on the suit, fly out to Time Square, and dance to Taylor Swift’s _Shake It Off._ ”

“Done!”

Steve pauses for a moment. Tony had answered before he’d even _finished_ speaking. He knew it would be a relatively easy dare, but it wasn’t supposed to be _that_ easy. Steve’s going to have to up his game. For a moment the Captain debates calling Peter, the kid had a knack for stuff like this. Hell, if he was able to hold his own against Clint and _Wade,_ he’d be an asset, but Steve doubted the kid would help him prank Tony. Anyone else? Sure, but Tony? _I think he’d rather risk pranking Nat and Gamora again_. Shaking away the idea, the Captain snatches his leather jacket from the coat closet and hurries out to the roof's landing pad. Taking the ride offered by Tony once he’s clad in the Iron Man armour.

Steve hated flying. Well. No. He _used_ to hate flying, and some days even a ride in the quinjet would become too much. After all, the last time Steve had been on a plane, he was sending it into nose-dive into the Arctic. Aiming for untouched snow that he knew would give way to unimaginably cold, ink-black waters. He still remembers, the moment _just_ before the plane hit, and wondered which would kill him first; the bombs, the cold, or drowning? _I always wanted to go like ma, in my sleep,_ he thought, in those final few seconds of peace, before the chaos struck. Steve had felt his skin burn and flay. Felt the blood in his veins freeze. Tasted the arctic in his throat, but he didn’t know which got him first.

Steve turned his face towards the crook of Tony’s neck, keeping a safe distance from the suit’s joints, but resting his cheek on the seamless - and obnoxiously endearing red - shoulder plate. However, this was different. Since Steve had begun taking these little joyrides with Tony, which had begun as an idea of his own during a battle, they just...kept on doing it. Even outside of battle. The genius created a way for the armour to warm on the outside so Steve would have some source of warmth while they flew. The usual Captain America uniform was great at deflecting bullets, but it wasn't an insolation unit - that was a whole other suit. It was a strange relief to Steve, that flying with Tony never brought him to the edge of panic like flying usually did.

It had started after they’d gotten back to the tower from a battle. Early days. Back when if Steve and Tony weren’t at each other’s throats, it was because they were in different rooms. When the best anyone could hope for from the duo was amicability. He still remembers the day with blinding clarity. Recalls the moment when the quinjet is hanger doors had opened and Steve was off like a shot. Vision tunnelled to the nearest bathroom that was far enough away he wouldn’t run into anyone. _Breathe, Rogers, just breathe,_ he remembered telling himself. Like he always did after a long and bumpy flight _._ Steve had thought he held himself together well. At least, well enough no one mentioned how pale he’d become during the flight back to the tower. Maybe Tony had followed him, or maybe he'd just happened upon Steve when he was in the middle of an anxiety-attack-induced-emergency-clearing-of-his-stomach. Either way, Tony had found him and sat with Steve until he’d no longer tasted the Arctic in the back of his burning throat.

 _“It’s the flying,”_ Tony had said, not bothering with any polite preamble. _“Isn’t it?”_ It was phrased as a question, even though they both knew the answer. Though Steve’s silence had been confirmation enough to the genius.

Something changed, that humid afternoon at the Avengers Tower - even if Steve hadn’t realized it then. Tony took a special interest in helping Steve through the motions of dealing with his trauma after that moment. At first, it had almost enraged Steve, how doggedly Tony injected the notion of ‘freedom’ into flying. And it wasn’t until one night after Tony had been given the go-ahead by Fury to update the quinjet to his standards, that Steve just _snapped_ at him. Steve couldn't help it, then, because Tony just kept _asking._ Steve had cut Tony off with a shout, telling him that there was _no_ ‘freedom’ in flying. _You just fighting off falling until you - inevitably - did, so what does it matter?_ He'd yelled at the man, remembered the acrid panic and venom in his voice. He’d hate the flights to and from battles, but he’d deal with it, he was a _soldier_ for fuckssake. He'd just keep gritting and bearing it. Like he always did.

 _“Whatever ‘freedom’ you pin to flying, Stark,”_ he snarled, and it _had been_ a snarl, because right then even Steve honestly didn’t recognize himself. He felt more akin to a caged animal than a man, _“is just because you’re afraid of falling, again.”_

Steve never thought he was a cruel person, but right then he'd felt like the cruellest piece of scum alive. He watched Tony’s expression fall - he looked so taken aback, so _upset -_ and turn to stone mere seconds later. Instantly, Steve wished he could have somehow taken the words back. He _knew_ why Tony pinned so much on flying, he’d read the man’s file, Tony escaped from the Ten Rings _and_ Stane is grips because of his ability to make flying possible. To Tony, it _was_ a symbol of his freedom.

Steve had _felt_ that the progress he and Tony had been making towards his fear of flying. Tony _was_ making progress with him, even if it was at a crawl’s pace. And, dare he say, Steve _felt_ like he and Tony had started becoming _friends_. However, right then, he'd truly believed he'd thrown all their progress away in a moment of petty anger. He'd remembered battering himself internally. In a moment of panic, Steve gave in to his base-urge to lash out at his teammate rather than just say, ‘ _Tony, I’m not ready.'_ But that would have meant Steve admitting he was scared. That he was _weak_. Even then, he didn’t want Tony to see him as weak.

 _Well, now he just plain hates you,_ his mind had cruelly snickered in those moments of silence. He remembers the feeling of panic that begun to stir back to life in his gut, _be careful what you wish for…don't you ever learn? The last time you wanted something, you lost Peggy-_

 _“I’m sorry,”_ Steve remembered being taken aback by that. Remembered his attention being sharply pulled away from his thoughts, and back to Tony’s eyes and- and…they’d softened, again. Somehow. _“I shouldn’t have pushed you. Hell, when I was still in recovery, during an anxiety attack I socked Rhodey in the jaw for pushing me too hard too fast. Don't think a few words are going to scare me away, Stevie.”_

That hadn't been an easy night for Steve's conscious, but it was still a night he heald near and dear to his heart. Tony had chosen to understand his panic, rather than mock him or push him away for it. Steve didn't know many that would be as forgiving. Tony hadn't given up on him, despite their setbacks. And in the end, Tony had made flying okay again.

“ **You good there, hun?** ” Tony asks, pulling him from his memories. His voice a little different when filtered through the suit’s speakers, fighting to be heard over the wind.

“Yeah,” Steve yells because he has to. “I’m good,” he says, clinging a little tighter when he feels the suit’s armour warm under his palms. He could feel the windburn developing on his cheeks. Tony never went anywhere near the suit’s actual potential, but it was still August in New York. Though Steve couldn’t bring himself to care, whatever little burns his cheeks endured would heal before they even landed anyway. They always did. The crisp pain of the cold contrasting with the warmth against his side was always a good reminder that he was okay. Held against his best friend and teammate while they flew over the city he was born in - even if he was still, technically, he was still relearning it. 

“IT’S IRON MAN!” Steve’s enhanced hearing catches the words from the distance, over the wind that chills his skin and looking around he realizes they’d arrived at Time Square just as Tony began to slow to a hover. Once low enough, but higher than most people could handle, Steve hops onto the grimy New York concrete and smiles up at his friend in thanks.

“ **You gonna get your phone out or what, Cap?** ” The blond could _hear_ the smirk in Tony’s voice. _Of course, he’d want this filmed, shameless bastard,_ Steve thinks with a grin as he reaches into his back pocket for his phone.

It doesn’t take a genius to have guessed who the large man Iron Man had set down likely was. However, with Steve holding his phone up and pointed towards his teammate, everyone else seemed to heed his example and do the same instead of crowding him. Steve watches his friend wave at people that begun to get a little too close, shooing them away while asking for a space of five feet, claiming it to be _‘official Avengers business, ma’am, give me twenty minutes and I promise to sign your hamster.'_

The world insisted Tony was a cold and calculating person, and sometimes, the man himself agreed. But Steve knew better. He couldn’t explain how or why he was so steadfast that Tony _wasn’t_ the ‘bad guy’ the media sometimes made him out to be, but he just _knew_ it. If anything, it was there to see in Tony’s heroics every time they were on the frontlines. Tony wasn’t only a hero in Steve’s eyes, but a good man; plain and simple.

 _“Let’s just forgive and forget, how ‘bout it?”_ Steve remembers Tony saying after his outburst. He'd recognized the words for the olive branch they were. But even then, he knew that if he were to accept Tony’s offer to brush his words under the rug, neither would ever _truly_ escape the shadow of it.

 _“No, Tony,”_ he still recalled the way his stomach turned as he watched Tony’s face turn from tenuous hope to abject disappointment, and was quick to continue. _“Tony I can’t just ignore it, because it was a_ shit _thing to say to you. It was unfair, and it was_ not _true_. _So, Tony, I have to ask you_ , _please forgive me?”_

Steve grins at the familiar kick drum and beats that begin to blare out through the suit’s speakers. Loud enough for the large majority of onlookers hearing it to show their confusion, even as they began humming along. The team had collectively had this song stuck in their heads for about two weeks when it had first released. To the point that, whatever room you’d walk into, you were likely to hear _someone_ humming or outright _belting_ it. Steve and Tony hadn’t been exceptions, either. The sound was loud enough that just about _all_ of those passing by who hadn’t stopped before did now. Dumbfounded, when they saw Iron Man begin to _shimmy_ to the beats.

Steve did his best to hold back his laughter, trying to make sure the video wouldn’t come out shaky but had no qualms to yell out, “THAT ALL YOU GOT, STARK?!”

Some people’s jaws fell when the Iron Man helmet receded to reveal that it _was,_ indeed, _actually_ Tony Stark. And while Tony didn’t speak, the look he shot Steve was clear enough - this wasn’t the first time he’d seen that expression during their friendship, after all. It was an expression that said; _oh it’s_ so _on, Rogers._ Staring at that devil-may-care grin, Steve honestly couldn't imagine not having it in his life now.

 _“Steve, of course, I forgive you."_ He still remembered how sincere Tony's words were. How the knot of anxiety over possibly destroying the beginnings of their friendship had quelled almost instantly over those words. _"Now, how do you feel about a game of fetch with Dummy? He’s been whining about it all week.”_

He still remembers the feeling of the weight falling off his shoulders at that moment as he cackles over Tony trying to maneuver his hips through the suit to dance. It was aggressively hilarious, and somehow _still_ endearingly sexy to Steve. Steve felt like he was floating whenever he was around the man and didn't know how to _stop_ feeling that way. Not that he wanted to.

A young man jumps into the clearing, giving Tony enough breadth that they don’t bump, but starts dancing _with_ him. _Holy shit, how does he_ move _like that?_ is all Steve can think, watching with astonished glee as Tony cheers on his new dance partner. Steve had seen street performers around the city before, but they never failed to amaze him every time. Well, not every time. The talent in New York varied, of course. Tony begins to belt the little spoken-word moment in the song, directing his attention to Steve for a moment. Then he turns his attention to all those around them, encouraging them to sing along. In the back of his mind, Steve was _sure_ Fury was going to read them the Riot Act before dawn. However, right then, he was too enthralled in Tony’s animated performative energy and the crowd’s enthusiasm to care.

By the end of the song, Time Square was deafening with cheers. And Tony, ever the lover of attention, relished in the applause and praise. Steve loved it, watching him like that. Tony always loved being the center of attention, but with the media, as it was today, that was a double-edged sword. However, this wasn’t Tony biting his tongue as someone tried to antagonize him into a scandal they could sell; asking _why_ they should ever trust someone with 'a past like his' to protect them. Despite all the _good_ Tony continued to do. No, this? _This_ was his best friend laughing ( _genuinely_ laughing), and chatting excitedly with strangers as they came up to him with praise and requests for pictures and signatures. This was Tony in his element. Giving his full attention, the thing Steve _knows_ almost feels like a ray of warmth when directed at you, to people elated by his performance or thanking him for something he’d - unknowingly - done to help them the past. Tony didn’t brush off a single person, happy to spend the time getting to as many fans, and thankful civilians as he could.

Steve no longer tried to explain away the way his heart speeds up _just_ a little from its usual slow-rest rate when watching Tony like this. He’d given up on doing that months ago. However, Steve's attention is pulled from his best friend by a gentle tug at his sleeve. Looking down, Steve sees a little girl staring up at him with tightly gripped excitement, as though she were waiting for permission to express it. He smiles as kindly as he can to try to calm the kid. Some kids were nervous when they first met him, it wasn’t anything unusual. She couldn’t have been more than 10 or 11 but stood tall and confident. Her rosy cheeks framed by beautifully wild brown ringlets that swayed around her shoulders, which only made his heart melt further when she finally smiled.

“Hello, I’m America Chavez, and my friends and I are fans of yours, and we were hoping to get a picture with you?” She didn’t stumble on her words so much as sped through them, quick enough that Steve needed a moment for the meaning to set in. Looking over her shoulder, he noticed a group of four other kids, all looking varying shades of excited and _very_ excited.

Steve chuckles, “sure, no problem.”

“He’s cool with it!” She shouts over her shoulder, hands rifling through her sweatshirt pockets. Steve turns his attention to her friends. The girl wearing a Hawkeye shirt almost bowls over America, who lets loose a punched-out laugh. _Clint would be best friend with you,_ he thinks with a chuckle as they all introduce themselves. There’s a pair of twins and another blond boy who looked the most nervous amongst them. Though the excitement of his friends and Steve's open demeanour seems to be calming his nerves the more they chatted and took photos.

The attention of the kids brought a few more fans over, but Steve didn't mind too much. He wasn’t as good with crowds as Tony was, but his USO tours had helped learn how to settle his nerves in front of crowds. For the most part, anyway. But the kids and teens that came up to him made it easy. At first, he used to hate stuff like this. But the more he learned to differentiate (most) civilians from scandal-hungry vultures, he began to enjoy interacting with the people of his city. It made their work as Avengers seem all the more important, the more he grew to socialize with those within his community. Something real to fight for, not just an idea. And on some days, on the _hardest_ days, knowing that made all the difference. Eventually, both of America’s mothers bustled over, clearly having been looking for their daughter and her friends in a panic, but calmed when they realized who the little gang had run off to meet.

“I mean honestly, Amalia? A superhero isn’t the worst babysitter they’ve had,” the mother with short hair - who introduced herself as Elena - says with a shrug, and Steve couldn’t help but chuckle sympathetically when the long-haired mother - Amalia - groans and sighs.

“I hate that that’s true,” but quickly jumps to add, “I’m not a bad mom, I swear-” Steve quickly waves off her worries.

“I don’t believe you are, Mrs. Chavez. I’m pretty sure you just have a brunch of trouble makers on your hands,” Steve grins at the kids tittering amongst themselves, some embarrassed while others grin proudly.

“You get it,” the beautiful woman laughed, fixing him with a fond look only mothers were capable of. “Let me guess, you drove your mother crazy too?”

“Oh, of _course_ , I was a terror,” Steve laughs, for once, his heart not feeling heavier for thinking of his mother. "She was dealing with a hardheaded asthmatic hell-beast the size of a chihuahua who just never could stay outta trouble, but it helped that my best friend had some sense.”

Both women glance down at America and the girl with the Hawkeye shirt - Kate, he’d remembered her belting excitedly - with her arm slung around her friend’s shoulders, and Steve had a feeling he was staring at younger, female versions of him and Bucky somehow - _they’re going to be inseparable little hell raisers, I swear it._

“Well bless your mother, Captain, she raised a hell of a man,” Elena says with a kind smile, before beginning to wrangle the kids in the other direction. While the two mothers bustled the group of excited kids away, Steve felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Ready to head back?” Tony asks, ducking his head a little closer to mock-whisper, but still only loud enough for Steve to hear. “I ain’t done with you yet, soldier.”

Steve decided he’d blame the shiver he felt wrack up his spine on the chilly New York night as he accepts Tony’s ride back to the compound. Their dares seemed to…spiral, from there. They decide to stay inside for the rest of the night, both agreeing that one public display was enough for the night. But that didn’t mean they weren’t above childish behaviour. Tony dares Steve to set up a trap in Clint’s room and make it look like Bucky did it. At first, Steve was hesitant. The last time someone pranked Clint, it incited the Prank Wars of 2013. But when Tony sighed and said, _‘fine Steve, just admit you know you wouldn’t get away with it and you can pick truth instead,’_ Steve found himself marching up to the archer's room. Tony was a clever bastard. He knew the poking at Steve’s pride would have him striding into the elevator within seconds, which it did.

If he was being honest with himself, a part of him _was_ worried he wouldn’t get away with the prank. Clint was a master spy, after all. But Tony didn’t need to know that. Steve decided to retaliate in-kind, feeling petty and dares Tony to go into Thor’s room and pet the Bilgesnipe in there. Steve had expected Tony to call him crazy and switch to truth. Which was the goal, but leave it to Tony to leave Steve floundering in surprise. Because after a moment's consideration Tony shrugs, gets up, and starts for the elevator. Steve moves to follow, but before he could even _stand_ Tony darts off into the elevator. Though the Captain had no idea why. _Maybe to get his suit?_ was the only reasonable answer, because Steve didn’t expect him to go pet the Bilgesnipe _without_ the suit. The Demi-God had been very explicit about his ‘open door’ policy, so Steve didn’t feel too bad about them going in while he was away. It wasn’t like they were going to go through his things, he just wanted his best friend to forfeit his dare because even Tony had _some_ self-preservation instinct- _he wouldn't..._

The door to Thor’s room was…open, _oh shit._ Steve looks around for something to use as a makeshift weapon but settles on snatching up one of the decorative vases Tony had in the hallway. At the very least, he could use it to distract. Moving quickly, but quietly, into the room Steve looks around and sees- no, _that_ … _am I seeing things?_ But no, because there was Tony, sitting right _next_ to the Bilgesnipe. Scratching it on its leathery head. _Without_ his armour. _He'll be the death of me, I swear it._

“What the hell?!” Steve can’t help belting, which only serves to make Tony smirk in his direction.

“Oh, did I forget to mention Bilgy and I play together whenever Thor’s away?” Tony looks far too pleased with himself. The massive beast huffs happily under Tony’s attention.

Steve pauses at that, the dots slowly - despite his incredible disbelief - start connecting in his head. “…why was I even surprised? Of course, you play with Bilgesnipes in your spare time, and of _course_ , it’d be called ' _Bilgy_.'”

The ensuing madness is that Steve decides to _join in._ It turns out to be pretty fun. Bilgy was rather calm around people who weren’t Thor, mainly because the (surprisingly gentle and pretty lazy) beast associated the Demi-God with ‘playtime.’ Steve isn’t sure how long they spent petting and, carefully, playing with the massive beast. Tony said being low-energy around Bilgy was 'key.' But by the time they stumble out of Thor’s room and make their way back down to the common area, they’re pretty beat. However, their competitiveness urges them to continue the game, even if the dares become more sedate. Which is how Steve finds himself with a blacked-out front tooth using Tony's spare FX makeup from Halloween, while Tony laughs at him. Despite looking _ridiculous_ with his freshly bleached…well, _entire face._ Steve had dared him to bleach his entire head, facial hair included, which he did, hence the ink-stain on Steve’s front tooth.

“Sir, yes, sir, Captain Bucktooth!” Tony cackles with a salute. _That’s not going away any time soon,_ Steve thinks with a sigh, even though he couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed. Or stop grinning like a fool.

Tony takes a selfie of them together, pressing their faces together tightly enough despite the space of the frame. Lithe arm slung around Steve’s shoulders pulling the blond closer. Steve could feel the short bristles of his beard against his cheek and found he didn't mind it, at all. Tony had pulled Steve in seconds before the camera went off. Steve didn’t know what he looked like, but what he _did_ know was that he honestly couldn’t bring himself to look away when Tony smiled like that.

“I swear, forget Ellen’s picture, we’re _so_ breaking Twitter with this!” Steve doesn’t understand what Tony meant by that, though he’ll probably find out tomorrow.

Steve stares a bit longer, watching while Tony chuckles at his phone screen long enough for the Captain to take in the engineer’s features up close. They’d been closer together before, of course. But something about this moment, about the _whole night_ actually, just…felt different, somehow. Steve snaps his gaze away the moment Tony exists out of the social media app, pretending to try to rub off some of the FX tooth-ink that got on his fingers - it was supposed to be semi-permeant, but the deal was they had to keep their looks for the rest of the week.

“We haven’t done a single truth yet,” Steve says as the thought occurs to him. They’d been so wrapped up in trying to outdo each other with the dares, that they’d forgotten about the _other half_ of the game.

“Actually, some truths would be nice. I may be in my thirties, but even _I_ get tuckered out,” Tony jokes, nudging Steve. “Well Rogers, it’s your turn, what do you want to ask?”

Steve leans his back against the edge of the sofa, legs sprawled on the floor where they sat, side by side, on the common room floor. Trying to think of something to ask; _would you like to go on a date with me? We can just cuddle, I’ll make you coffee in the morning, just the way you like it-_

“Something you’re embarrassed about, but secretly love,” he asks instead, but even _that_ felt a little too close to home for Steve. Maybe playing Truth wasn’t such a good idea. Though it wasn’t _only_ because all Steve could think about asking Tony was ‘please go out with me,’ phrased more and more pathetically each time.

The genius tips his head back, resting it against the comfy seat cushion. The expanse of his throat a rare sight that Steve finds himself enamoured with, tracking the way his jugular bobs with each hum and swallow. Steve eventually had to look away, the thoughts of _why_ Tony’s neck looked so delectable were for reasons he knew would never _actually_ come true. However, it didn’t stop his mind from wandering. Though at least while staring at the floor, he could try to keep his body from stirring up embarrassingly _graphic_ daydreams.

“I’m a sucker for a good Rom-Com,” Tony finally answers after a lull of silence. His shoulder having, at some point, begun to rest against Steve’s. And suddenly, all he was aware of was Tony.

“Tony Stark? A romantic?” He felt a little breathless and, for some reason, _giddy_ asking that. “I thought you were a sci-fi geek all the way?”

“Hey, just because I’m a realist doesn’t mean I can’t admire a good fairytale,” Tony says with a huff, rolling his eyes, but his voice is surprisingly docile as he says it. _Has he gotten closer?_ However, something about Tony’s phrasing snags at Steve’s mind.

“You think love’s a fairytale?” Steve abruptly feels like he’s crossed some line by asking that. That the gentle and warm feeling of Tony’s exhale against the side of his neck would suddenly turn cold, or that the man beside him would leave altogether, taking his warmth with him.

"For me?” Tony does lean back a little, not enough that Steve can any longer deny what this moment between them was. ‘Just friends’ didn't sit like this, lean towards each other like they just couldn’t help themselves. But he needed to know if Tony felt it, too. “Yeah...yeah I do, Steve. Tell me a secret?”

“I…” Steve doesn’t even stop to think. He knows it’s now or never, and he doesn’t want to wait anymore. He swallows, feeling a little lost in the way Tony stares at him. Honey-chocolate eyes almost drowning him as they stare at him, so close yet so far away. “I think I’m in love with you, Tony.”

The Captain thought he’d feel some kind of panic roiling in his gut at the admission. That fear would strike him down, hard with the belief Tony would flee. Reject him. Or flat out _laugh_ in his face. But Steve just couldn’t bring himself to believe any of those things, not with the way Tony watches him. Silence takes over the room, but still, Steve couldn’t bring himself to panic. If only because Tony didn't. There wasn’t even a moment of surprise in his expression. Not like he’d seen this coming, but more like…Tony had been _waiting_ to hear those words, and _finally_ felt like he could breathe again. Steve knew the feeling.

“Can I tell you a truth?” Tony tips his head forward, nose gently bumping Steve’s jaw. “I think I’m in love with you, too.”

Tony tasted like coffee and the churro they’d gotten on the way back from Time Square. Bitter and sweet on his tongue. And something that seemed to be just _Tony_ that Steve felt like he'd never get enough of. Tony slowly pulls Steve toward him as he lowered himself onto his back, onto the floor. Their kisses slowly growing more heated as they sprawled out, but Steve wanted to take his time with Tony. He knew he couldn’t be as _thorough_ as he wanted to be, given that they were in the living room. Though that could, hopefully, change later. Slowly ghosting his fingertips against the hem of Tony’s shirt, Steve pauses. His fingers hovering _just_ over a strip of exposed tanned skin above the waist of his jeans. Tony’s collar was still slightly damp from bleaching his hair.

“Is this okay?” Steve asks, breathless, in the fraction of space between their mouths.

“I’ve been waiting for you to get your hands on me for months, Steve,” Tony declares, pecking his lips. “So yes, _please_ touch me.”

They spend the rest of the night lazying around on the living room floor in their boxers. Lips sore from making out, and teased to the edge by groping. But both men continue to hold each other close, feeling sated and warm. Steve had never honestly thought he’d get to this point. Glancing down at Tony, who was trying - and failing - to keep his eyes open, looked so precious in his arms. Steve couldn’t imagine himself any place else. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, just as the first few rays of dawn began to peek over the horizon. Both safe in the knowledge that, when they woke, they would wake to each other.


	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short and sweet epilogue, I hope y'all enjoy!

The picture Tony Tweeted did, in fact, break Twitter. _But_ the world was also _convinced_ Steve and Tony were having a dual mid-life crisis. Especially after the footage of Tony dancing in Time Square went viral, despite Taylor Swift having personally gotten a kick out of it. And during the hight of it all, both her and Tony decided to team up and open a charity organization to promote dancing amongst New York’s youth. Which, Steve was happy to report, was an amazing success.

Unfortunately, about a month later, Steve’s need to protect his pride came back to bite him in the ass. Clint had squawked like a dying rooster when he’d come back to the Tower, only to discover all his possessions covered in purple glitter. And _after_ making the error of pranking Bucky in retaliation, did the archer realize that it was _Steve_ \- and, by extension, _Tony_ \- who was _actually_ to blame. Unbeknownst to Steve nor Tony, Bucky and Clint decided to team up in revenge. Bucky got back at Tony by rigging his shower head with semi-permeant dye, and for a week, Tony was blue from head-to-toe. As for Steve’s penance, well...Tony said Steve didn’t look _too_ bad bald, so he’d take it. Despite Tony _insisting_ on calling him by the name of ‘Lex Luthor,' even though Steve had no idea who the hell that was.

It had been less than a week after Clint and Bucky’s realizations, and ensuing retaliations, that Steve stood dirty and tired in the middle of the street post-battle and smiling at Tony as the man walked up to him. The mission had been quick and simple, but still took a lot of energy out of them. Though, thankfully, there was little-to-no damage or harm caused by the end of it all.

“You did great today,” Tony says with a grin. Even with his skin and hair still a vivid blue, he looked like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“So did you, babe,” Steve smiles back, knowing he probably looks goofy with his one blacked-out front tooth. But couldn’t bring himself to care, not when Tony looked at him like that.

The picture of the two of them, Steve with his bald head and Tony who looked like a member of the Blue Man Group, was plastered on newspapers all over the world. The duo sharing a post-battle kiss in celebration of a job well done. It hadn’t been the most ideal way to announce their relationship, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to care about the backlash. And while he was thankful for the support, all he _did_ care about was Tony’s reaction to it all. A nervousness that was put to rest when the genius, after seeing the news article over breakfast the next day, walked right up to Steve and smacked a kiss onto his chin. To be fair, Steve was still only just waking up and hadn't expected the kiss-attack.

“No backing out now, Rogers,” Tony chides, though there’s an edge of unease in his tone. “You sure you’re willing to make an honest man out of me? Blue skin and all?”

Steve pulls the shorter man flush against him, stealing a deeper kiss, and thinks, _in more ways than one._ “I’m all in if you are.”

Tony smiles, _really_ smiles. Bright and wide, and beautiful. The small crow’s feet only adding to the endearing way his eyes seem to sparkle. Steve’s teammate, best friend, and now _boyfriend_ lunges himself at the super soldier. Kissing him with an enthusiasm Steve happily reciprocates.

 _I’m pretty sure I don’t just ‘think’ I love you,_ Steve reflects to himself, tracing his thumb along Tony’s jaw. Steve shivers when he feels Tony grip at his shoulders, a little moan escaping his throat, _but I think you already know that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! Thank you all SO MUCH for the lovely comments and kudos!! xxoxoo

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it this far, thank you SO much for reading!  
> I hope y'all enjoyed and there will be an epilogue coming out soon!  
> xxoxoo  
> ~ Zombie


End file.
